“Nora!” shouted Laddie. “I am all goose flesh, please tell us who had the eyes.”
“I’m trying to,” said Nora, realizing the value of pauses. “I was so frightened I wanted to run, but before I could do so the creature showed how frightened she was——”
“She!” This was Betta.
“Yes, it was a poor, miserable little girl, all rags and eyes, and so sad looking! Really girls, my heart went out to her,” declared the story teller in her most Nora-esque manner.
Titters barely tinctured the atmosphere. Miss Beckwith begged the girls to listen politely.
“I managed to get her to tell me her name,” said Nora next. “And it was Lucia.”
“Lucia,” repeated a chorus in perfect time, pronouncing it “Luchia.”
“Yes, a poor, neglected, little Italian girl, who has to work on one of the big farms——”
“There!” almost shouted Alma. “I knew when you saved your picnic lunch it was for something noble. It was for Lucia, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but after bringing her food for days she suddenly disappeared.”